


Newsies Shorts

by Brooklyns_Late



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Albert's defensive, Blood, Breakups, Bullying, But it's gay, Crimes & Criminals, Crying, Cuddling, Good pure platonic Ralbert, He's ok I promise, Head Injury, Hospitals, Ice Cream, Implied Sexual Content, Job stress, Marriage Proposal, Nerves, Punk!Spot, Second Date, Snow White - Freeform, Soft happy boys, Soft!Race, Some good soft, Spot is a Good Boyfriend, Stage Kissing, Stitches, Supportive friend, Tattoos, but it's not bad, even before he's his boyfriend, fear of needles, happy boys, he's a nerd, implied fighting, it's in the past, mildly graphic, musical AU, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-10 16:09:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20854568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brooklyns_Late/pseuds/Brooklyns_Late
Summary: Some random stuff for the 31 day writing challenge I've taken on.There's gonna be one shots, notes, blurbs, all sorts of things.Basically, these aren't guaranteed to be complete stories nor are they expected to be my best work. The goal is simply to turn out something every day.Let's see if I make it all the way through!{Edit} I did not.This is now going to be a place to put little snippets. All of what was mentioned before but without the October time constraint.





	1. Skull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race is hurt. But he'll be fine.  
...right?

"Excuse me???"  
"He's fine, really. Don't worry."  
"Don't worry!?" He could practically hear Albert flinch on the other end of the line, but that wasn't important. "My boyfriend is in the hospital with six stitches in his head and you're telling me not to worry!? Are you hearing yourself DaSilva?"  
Albert sighed. "Yes. Ok? Yes, I hear it and I get it and I know exactly what you mean. I was there when it happened so don't imply that I'm not upset here, but they told me he should be fine, so he'll be fine. That's all I can tell you because considering other options is gonna freak me out ok? He's done stupid shit before and bounced back, this isn't going to be any different because it can't be any different. If you want to come down here, you should because I'm sure he'll want to see you when he wakes up but if you're just coming to yell at me, save it."  
Spot raked a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down enough to be rational. "Right. Yeah. Sorry man, you're stressed too. I'm just... I'm just scared."  
"Yeah..." Albert sounded exhausted even through the phone, "Yeah me too... But he'll be fine."  
"He'll be fine." Spot repeated it with finality, willing it to be true. "I'll be there in a bit ok? Get as much information as you can ok?"  
"Will do. I'll see you soon."  
"See ya." He hung up the phone, mumbling to himself as he grabbed his keys and headed out to the car.  
"God Tony, if you aren't ok... Dumbass had to go and get hurt, I get a call from your best friend saying you're unconscious, getting stitches... Scare me half to death..." He trailed off as he got in the car, muting the radio and speeding away in tense silence to the hospital.  
~  
Albert hung up the phone, going back to his very important task of wringing his hat nervously in his hands. It had been quite the day, ending off of course, with his best friend unconscious and bleeding in the A&W parking lot. Albert had always hoped he'd never have to actually use the first aid training he took for summer camp when he was seventeen but boy was he glad he'd kept up with it.  
Most people would have panicked at seeing Race practically crack his skull open on the curb but Albert... Well, he had panicked. But he knew how to respond and he'd never stop being grateful for it.  
It was a freak accident really, one minute, they were walking back towards the car and the next, his best friend was out cold. Bleeding on the pavement.  
EMS was called, pressure was applied, the lord was thanked that Race was still breathing, and fifty minutes later he was standing in the waiting room wearing a shirt the hospital had given him after his own had been recruited to stop the bleeding, going over all the information to be relayed to Spot as he waited desperately to see his best friend.  
-Concussion  
-Six stitches in his forehead  
-One nasty bruise on his hip  
He would be fine, they'd told him.  
He had to be fine, he told himself.  
~  
"Guys I'm fine, really. You don't have to coddle me. It's just not even that bad." Albert fixed him with a look.  
"You saw the picture?" Race sighed  
"I saw the picture."  
"Yes, well," Spot smirked as Albert launched into what was sure to be a foolproof argument, "See, I saw the picture too. Live. And your head was in that puddle. And I used my good Beatles t-shirt to stop the bleeding. Which was coming from your head."  
Race sighed, snuggling back down into his covers. "Coddle away boys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Race is a clumsy boi who doesn't know how to walk  
Concerned boyfriend Spot Conlon is my man  
Al loves Race with all his heart (platonically, don't expect anything more) so much so that he will 100% sacrifice his favourite shirt for him.  
Race IS going to be totally ok, I promise. He listened to a lot of books and whined a lot about not having his computer.


	2. New Groups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albert's starting sixth grade, his eighth new school in eight years. Will this year be better than the rest?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok ok ok ok ok. I'm sooooo behind. BUT! I plan to catch up and I WILL have 31 things by the end of the month.
> 
> This little story takes place in the College-verse I'm working on (But like, a lot before, obviously)

Sixth grade. The beginning of middle school. And Albert DaSilva was the new kid. Again.  
This year, he thought, this year he wouldn't cause problems. He'd keep his head down, talk only when absolutely necessary, and try to keep his temper in check. Maybe this time people would leave him alone. Eighth time was the charm right? He wasn't getting his hopes up. He knew well enough how it went, the first few days were quiet, maybe a week if he was really lucky, and then someone would notice him, and within a month they'd be discussing suspension. He was used to it by now, he just wasn't the type of kid who made friends.  
It wasn't hard to slip into his usual routine. He found a seat in the back corner of the class, he couldn't hear the teacher but it felt safer. It wasn't like he would have gotten the homework done anyway so who cared if he knew what was going on in class. It only took about three days before the teacher stopped caring that he slept through class most of the time. It wasn't like he could do it at the home.  
On the fourth day, kids started to care.  
It was recess and Albert was sitting by the school, doodling to pass the time when suddenly someone was poking him in the shoulder.  
"What?" He snapped at the kid who was staring down at him. The kid said something but he missed it and just stared blankly at him, hoping he'd repeat it or better yet, leave him alone. The kid said something else, looking confused and a little weirded out. Albert was focused on the judgement in the kid's face and, once again, missed what he'd said. He was talking too quietly and too fast.  
"Talk slower." The kid looked taken aback.  
"What?"  
"Talk. Slower. Or leave me alone." And there it was. That look in the kid's eyes. It always showed up eventually.  
"Wow." He caught that one. "You really are as stupid as you seem." And it begins, he thought bitterly. He wasn't going to react. He'd keep cool and take it.  
A teacher finally decided to take interest in the new kid when he punched another student in the jaw.  
~  
Albert tried not to be too happy about missing recess for the next week. He knew he shouldn't have punched the kid, should have kept himself in check, he knew it would go in his file and his social worker would probably hate him even more. But he would be alone. Or, he thought he would be.  
When he walked across the all to the other sixth grade room at recess the next day, there was another kid sitting at a desk at the front of the room, scribbling furiously in a notebook, a big book open next to him.  
He sighed. At least this kid didn't look like he'd be talking to him much, and maybe he would only be there for that day.  
As it turned out, the kid was there everyday, scribbling in his notebook, working on something Albert didn't pay attention to on the computer, sometimes both, but he never said anything. Albert was thankful for it.  
His week of blissful alone time ended far too quickly and by Monday afternoon, Albert was back out in the field, looking for somewhere quiet to hide until the bell.  
~  
It was Thursday afternoon and Albert was sitting in between two portables trying desperately to calm himself down before he did something to get himself in trouble again.  
He knew it had been a stupid idea, bringing his book to school, but he'd hoped to find somewhere to hide out and read. Almost as soon as he'd pulled it out though, one of the other boys had already stolen it away, saying he was "too stupid for it anyway." It was a library book too, and now who knew what would happen to it. He'd be slammed with fees he couldn't possibly pay, there was no way he could go back to his one relatively safe space. And it had been a good book too...  
He'd barely been in his hiding spot for five minutes when he felt someone come up next to him. It took so much effort and energy to keep himself for blowing up, beating the random kid who'd made the mistake of approaching him at such an inopportune time to a pulp against the dirty portable wall.

He was probably crazy. The other kids all said so. There was something wrong with him.

This kid was probably just there to harass him some more, see how far he could push his buttons before breaking him, how long it would take to-

"Are you ok?"  
The voice was soft, gentle, sounding almost as if it actually cared about his answer. That was new.  
He looked up to see who the voice had come from and standing awkwardly over him, was the nerdy looking kid with the notebook that he'd seen all of the last week in recess detention. The kid looked genuinely concerned, as if the feelings of some fucked up new kid actually mattered to him. That didn't mean he trusted him though.  
"Why do you care?" The boy looked confused.  
"Because you look upset. And I saw what happened. They shouldn't have done that, taking your book. Oh!" The boy held out a book that Albert hadn't even noticed he'd been holding. It was his library book. He'd brought it back. "My brother got it back for you. He wanted to tell a teacher on those guys but I told him no. At least until I talked to you 'cause I didn't know if you'd want to."  
"Oh..." He noticed that he was feeling significantly calmer since the kid had started talking to him. It was... It was nice. Different. He didn't want him to go away. "Thanks."  
"No problem." Crap. The kid was probably going to leave if he didn't say something. Preferably something that didn't make him sound like an asshole or an idiot or-  
"Why are you outside?" Fuck. He'd definitely screwed that up hadn't he? And the kid was going to- sit down?  
"Ms. Vaughn has a supply so I couldn't stay in. I'm Tony by the way. Or, Antonio, technically. But my brothers call me Race."  
"Albert."  
"What'cha reading?"  
"Book about Crosby..." The kid, Race, grinned,  
"He's that hockey guy right? I think my brother's talked about him before. He's some kind of big deal right?" And for the first time since he'd arrived at the new school, Albert cracked a smile.  
"Yeah," he chuckled, "Something like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Al's got about 65% hearing loss and struggles a whole he kin' bunch with his temper but he's a super sweet kiddo.  
Race is a whole-ass nerd ok? Fight me.  
Jack's the one who got his book back  
Race and Al hung out together every recess for the rest of the year until Albert had to move again but they never stopped being friends.


	3. Mirror Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The school theater group is reworking the classic show Snow White. It's bigger, more dramatic, and far more gay.  
Race and Albert are gearing up for the big reviving kiss scene. Will anything come of it?

"Alright! From the top of the scene! We're doing the whole thing, Finch, I need you to get that lighting down, I really want to see magic in that kiss. Let's have it!"  
Race grinned as he lowered himself down into his coffin. The guys had really done a great job on it, he thought, lying down and closing his eyes, grabbing the lid on his way down. It was a good thing the coffin wasn't over comfortable, it was warm in the theater and the hardest part of the scene was staying awake.  
He tuned into the scene, listening carefully to the lines being spoken around him. They hadn't done a full run of the scene yet, the coffin was brand new and he and Albert had only nailed down their blocking about an hour before. He really hoped it would go well, the kiss scene was one of the most important in the show after all.  
After lying compleatly still for almost five minutes, (No one would ever believe him) he caught the line he was waiting for.  
He could feel the presence above him, the warm breath on his face, the feeling of his perpetually messy curls being pushed of his face... And then Albert was kissing him. He gasped, sitting up to lean into it and felt himself being lifted easily out of his coffin and then he was kissing his best friend. Sparks flew, music swelled and then... The curtains closed.  
Race dropped back onto the stage, rubbing his knee where he'd wacked it on the coffin, they'd have to work on that lift a little more.  
"A great job all around boys, I can really see this scene coming together. Finch, you were a little late with the spark machine but it looked great and Albert, do be more careful pulling him out of there, I can already tell that's going to bruise. Are you alright hon?"  
Race grinned, "I dunno Ms. M, Al might have t'kiss it better huh?" Albert whacked him upside the head.  
"Alright," Ms. Medda interupted quickly, "Before this rehearsal all falls apart, I just want to remind you to be here tomorrow after class and to keep on working, you're all doing a wonderful job and you're dismissed for the night."  
Albert leaned over to him. "I think I left my phone in the booth." Almost an afterthought he dropped his voice and tacked on, "Find your own way home."  
"GET SOME AL"  
~  
Spottie😍- How was rehearsal?  
Me- Great. I made out with Al.  
Spottie😍- Should I be jealous?  
Me- Nah. But you should give me a ride home. Al went up to The Nest and I don't think he's coming back anytime soon.  
Spottie😍- Be there in ten. Sit tight Princess.  
Me- 😊💖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically  
Race: Snow  
Al: The Prince (They named him James) Also set building  
Finch: Tech lead  
Jack: Set Lead  
Davey: Stage Management  
Ms. Medda: Director  
And other newsies who do other things but I don't know what they are
> 
> They're reworking Snow White, Ms. Medda's given them just about full reign to do what they want with their show and they're working on it constantly.


	4. Open Drawer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> According to Racetrack Higgins, there was very little in the world better than a lazy Sunday...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I disappeared for a while. (Again) I actually was away without internet for the weekend so now I'm just dumping.  
Enjoy three chapters at once!

According to Racetrack Higgins, there was very little in the world better than a lazy Sunday.  
That particular moment found him curled up into his boyfriend's side, under his arm, an empty popcorn bowl on the table in front of them, giggling softly at the movie on the TV, their fourth of the day. It was practically perfect. Except for one thing.  
"Spottie?" He shifted around so that he was looking up at his boyfriend, who smiled lazily down at the slightly awkward position he was squishing himself into.  
"Hey princess. What's up."  
"I'm cold." Spot only hummed in acknowledgement, waiting on more. "Can I wear one of your sweaters?"  
Spot chuckled softly, "Course you can, you know where they are, go ahead."  
Race grinned, squirming, a little reluctantly, out of his very comfortable place in Spot's lap and heading over towards their bedroom. Spot's sweaters were the best, far more comfortable than any of his and far too big, which didn't hurt either.  
He hummed a little as he dug through the drawer, looking for Spot's ridiculously soft sweater from college that he had mostly adopted as his own, though it stayed in Spot's drawer so it would keep smelling like him.  
After a little digging, he pulled it out triumphantly. As soon as he did though, he heard something fall onto the floor.  
~  
"Spot?" Race sounded confused and a little nervous calling from the bedroom which was odd. He'd only gone to get a sweater from- oh shit. That was the drawer he'd hidden it in wasn't it...  
"Racer? Everything alright?" Maybe he hadn't found it. Maybe it was something else. But he was pretty strongly doubting it when Race gave him no answer except for coming hesitantly out of the room, clutching the little box he'd been so careful to keep secret.  
"Spottie what..."  
"This really wasn't how I was planning for this to go."  
"But you were planning..." Race looked down at the box for a few moments before whispering in disbelief, almost solely to himself, "You wanna marry me?"  
Spot smiled softly, getting up, catching his boyfriend's beautiful blue eyes and leading him back over to the couch. "Yeah Racer, I do."  
Race still looked confused.  
"But... You said you didn't want that." His nose scrunched up as he tried to recall exactly and goddamn, he was adorable. "You said marriage was a stupid, ridiculous expectation that costs more money than it's worth just to stand in from of a crowd of people that, for the most part, you don't even like that much just so you can prove something and-"  
"Hey. I know what I said and I really never planned to change my mind but... Well since when have my plans ever panned out since I met you huh?" He turned, finding Race's huge, watery blue eyes, only inches from his own.  
"You wanna marry me," Race laughed through his tears, grinning like mad.  
He chuckled, "So can I take this as a yes?"  
Race smacked him before wrapping his arms around Spot's neck, curling up in his lap.  
"Yeah you idiot, obviously," He could feel Race sob into his chest. His boyfriend, no, his fiancee, really was adorable.  
They lay quietly for a few minutes before Race once again broke the silence with a watery giggle,  
"We're getting married Spottie... I'm gonna marry you."  
He smiled softly, "You're damn right princess. Y'damn right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write much fluff but this one made me happy the whole time I was working on it.  
My boys are soft as fuck and I feel like the world needs more soft Race.  
Also, Spot is a whole chicken and that ring probably wouldn't have seen the light of day for over a year if Race hadn't found it.
> 
> I was gonna describe it but then I didn't so if you're curious, The ring:  
https://pin.it/zezkddzcokdxuo


	5. Wallet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can never say that Race doesn't enjoy his job.

It had been a relatively quiet morning, no one was working and, for the most part, everyone was home. The boys who weren't sleeping late were mostly just sitting around, playing cards or talking. It was nice. Calm. A rare thing around the house.  
It was no surprise that it was ruined when Racetrack Higgins came bursting in the front door, grinning like he'd just come home from having the time of his life. Or doing something illegal. Though, the two usually went hand in hand anyhow. The boys quickly took interest as he flopped down onto the couch, right in Albert's lap.  
"What're you grinning about Racer?"  
"What's with the look there?"  
"You get some or something?"  
"Racer's got the look again fellas!"  
"Alright alright alright!" Race laughed, reveling in the attention. For the job he had, you'd never think he was such an attention whore, but Racetrack Higgins was always full of surprises. "So you guys remember that cop I met-"  
"Evaded."  
"-At the bar the other night?"  
"During the Delancey job."  
Race looked up at the boy he'd been using as a seat, "Shut up DaSilva." Albert just smirked.  
"I'm only translating your romantic fantasies into the truth, you're welcome."  
Race smacked his brother lightly.  
"Yeah yeah. Whatever, what was I talking about?"  
"The cop at the Delancey." Race snapped his fingers, coming back to his train of thought.  
"Thank you Finch! Yes, well, I slept with him last night." That was when the noise came back. A variation of reactions from the boys around the room. Some groaned, some whooped, one of the twins called out,  
"He's at it again folks, the great slut of the east coast!" To which Race grinned proudly and shot them a wink. It was Crutchie who quieted them down, wanting to know if it had really been a good idea to sleep with the detective, recently put in charge of the investigation against them.  
"Relax boys, relax," Race laughed again, that high, bright, almost musical sound that was so successful in getting him into men's beds that most would think it was fake.  
"Don't worry about it guys, he didn't know who I was. Also, I chipped his phone and took his wallet." He grinned pulling a battered old leather wallet out of his pocket. "Got about a hundred in cash and a whole bunch of fun cards for Jo and Crutch to play with." He pulled out a few evenly creased bills and waved them in the air smugly as he passed the wallet to JoJo, curled under Albert's arm on the other side of the couch, who took it happily, grinning at his partner across the room.  
"Well there y'go Racer. At least if you've gotta sleep with a cop you got something worthwhile out of it." Albert punched him good-naturedly in the shoulder prompting a whine from Race, despite it having been a pathetically light punch from Albert's lame arm, the good one, occupied around his husband.  
Race fixed him with his best affronted look,  
"Well excuse you Albert DaSilva. I got something "worthwhile" out of it either way, you saw the guy. What I "got" was fucked by the hottest thing in New York. And oh boy, he is just as good as he looks."  
Albert only rolled his eyes.  
"Whatever, keep your pants on for the morning at least. You can help Davey tap into the chip when he wakes up?"  
"Absolutely I can!" Race grinned almost gleefully, clapping his hands together as if he was an excited five year old rather than a wanted criminal. "Let's see what Mr Leading Detective can do to help our cause."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my Crime Bois  
If it wasn't obvious, the detective was the one and only Spot Conlon  
I might run with this AU eventually, would that be of interest to anyone?  
Basically, Spot is the talented new guy who's been given the case in finding and busting the gang of Manhattan boys who always seem to slip away before they can be caught.


	6. Second Date/TV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race wasn't feeling up to going out. But he could only hope it wouldn't send the wrong signals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I'll admit, I got a little lazy and did two days in one story and I'd like to say it won't happen again but that would be a lie.

Me - Hey. I'm really sorry to do this but I'm really not feeling up to going anywhere tonight... Can we reschedule? I'm really sorry.😞  
Spot - Hey, that's alright. Bad day?  
Me - Kinda. Just kinda drained.  
Spot - Yeah, I know that feeling. You against seeing people completely or just going out?  
Me - Just leaving the house really. My couch and my PJs are far too comfortable today.😂  
Spot - Well, let me know when you're available and we'll make a plan.  
Me - Sounds great.🙃  
~  
Race sighed as he put down his phone, curling further into his blanket. Spot had said it was fine and that he still wanted to see him again, but he was still worried. Their first date had been so great and he really didn't want to seem like he was trying to get out of seeing him again because he really really did want to.  
He wished they'd been going out for longer. That they were in the kind of place where Spot would just come over and cuddle him and watch TV. Spot seemed like a good cuddler. But it was still too soon. They weren't there yet. He still needed to impress Spot. To look pretty for him and go places that were interesting and make himself look like the kind of person people bothered to date. Lying on the couch and crying for no good reason wasn't really a second date.  
~  
He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep but it had apparently been almost an hour since he'd last checked the clock when he was woken up by a knock at the door. Maybe it was his food. Although he hadn't ordered food yet had he...  
He got up and trudged across the room to the door, trying to make himself look a little more awake and a little less like he'd been crying when he fell asleep. He hated when people asked about that, he knew it was kinda weird. Figuring he was as presentable as he would get before he was taking too long to be normal, Race pulled open the door to find-  
"Spot?"  
He had cancelled their date right? He hadn't dreamed that? No. No he'd definitely done that. Was his hair alright?  
"Hey," Spot smiled, holding up a take out bag. "Thought you might be hungry." Wow... Spot really was amazing wasn't he... He took the bag, trying not to stare too hard.  
"Thank you."  
"So do you want to be alone or can I come in?" Oh. They were still standing in the doorway weren't they.  
He moved to let Spot in. If he had food, he may as well stay and eat at least. It would be nice.  
"Come on in. Sorry I'm kinda a mess. If I'd known you were coming..."  
Spot grinned, "Relax. You look cute." Crap. There was no way that blush wasn't insanely obvious. No one thought over-sized sweaters, messy hair, and bunny slippers were cute after just one date. Spot was either perfect or a figment of his imagination.  
He still hadn't decided which one it was an hour and a half later. But as he sat curled up on the couch, Spot's perfectly muscled arm around him, watching a movie quietly, he realized he didn't really care as long as there could be more of this in future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so Race wears bunny slippers and uses a lot of emojis because he's just like that.


	7. Tattoo/Sun/Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race has been admiring his boyfriend's vast collection of tattoos ever since they met and has been considering getting one of his own almost as long. Of course no one really thinks he'll be able to go through with it, himself included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, another multi-prompt one though, I'm not sure if the last two actually made it into the story all that noticeably. (The tattoo is an eclipse)

"Hey Spottie?"  
Spot looked up from his laptop to see his boyfriend bound into his office, grinning and clutching a sketchbook.  
"What's up princess?"  
Race giggled, a blush spreading over his face. Spot always found it adorable how, even five years later, Race still got so flustered by his favorite pet name.  
He curled his arms around Spot's neck and shoulders, around the back of his chair in a way that couldn't possibly be comfortable for anyone who wasn't Race.  
"What'cha workin' on?"   
Spot smiled, he'd always be a little amazed at how genuinely interested Race was in his work, even if it wasn't particularly exciting all the time.  
"Paperwork," Race booed, "I'm firing Eric."  
"Oh good. He's the one who was a dick to Al right?" Spot scoffed,  
"He's a dick in general. Dealt with it this long but I'm done with him."  
"Can you do that? Like, is that even allowed? Firing him just for sucking as a person?"  
"It's right there in the contract. I don't tolerate that kind of shit." Race grinned and, having at some point migrated to his lap, planted a quick peck on the tip of his nose.   
"I know. And I love you for it. Now, on the topic of the shop, can you make me an appointment sometime soon?"  
Spot leaned back a little to get a better look at his boyfriend and quirked an eyebrow.  
"You want me to make you an appointment at the shop?"  
Race grinned. "Mhm!"  
"You're gonna get a tattoo?"  
"Mhm!"  
"You're not gonna chicken out this time?"  
Race smiled confidently, ignoring the slightly embarrassed blush that had crept up his cheeks.  
"Nope. Not this time."  
Spot looked at him sceptically. Race had decided for and against getting a tattoo enough times that he felt he had a right to doubt at this point.  
"You're sure."  
"I'm sure."  
"You're gonna let one of my guys poke you with a needle."  
Race's conviction fluttered visibly for a second, his voice betraying his nerves.  
"...Yup."  
Spot sighed. Race had been coming up with designs for tattoos he wanted for years now, always changing his mind at the last minute, saying he just didn't want to commit to the art. It hadn't taken too long for Spot to figure out that it wasn't the art that was making him back out. After giving Race a ride to the doctor's for a flu shot and spotting some remnant tear when he came out, it had become obvious that Race was absolutely terrified of needles.  
He wasn't too irrational about it and would stick it out if he had to but so far it seemed like he hadn't been able to convince himself to deal with one by his own choice. Spot teased him lightly for it here and there but always seemed to find himself humouring his boyfriend's requests to try, despite being nearly positive it wouldn't pan out. If he was being completely honest, he wasn't quite sure why.  
"I'll see if I can get you in when I go for colouring next week alright?"  
Race's face lit up and all his reasoning came flooding right back.  
"Thanks Spottie! I swear I'm actually gonna do it this time! Just... Maybe could you hold my hand when I do?"  
Spot smiled lightly, standing up and carrying Race with him to the living room, he wasn't going to be getting much work done with an exited boyfriend around.  
"Absolutley princess. Any time."  
~  
"So it's this little sun and moon thing that Spottie did, and I'm thinking on my wrist, you said that doesn't hurt much right? Oh, and maybe make it really little too. ...So it's over fast..."  
Spot chuckled, this was the furthest into the process Race had ever made it. He wasn't yet sure if he'd make it to the actual inking, but he was proud either way.  
~  
Only a few hours later, they were sitting across from eachother at a small table out front of their favorite icecream shop. Spot flexed his left hand, sore from both his own fresh ink and Race's surprisingly crushing grip. For a skinny guy, he could hold on shockingly tight.  
"Stop messing with it." Race pouted lightly but left the bandage on his wrist alone, going back to his ice cream.  
"I wanna look at it again."  
"We'll take the wrap off when we get home ok?"  
"Ok."  
"You like it then?"  
Race grinned, "I love it. It's so pretty. Shot did such a good job!"  
Spot smirked at his boyfriend's enthusiasm. Race had always been a bubbly kid and it never ceased to amuse him when he got excited like this.  
"Worth the needle then?"  
"Absolutley!" Race announced proudly, thrilled that he'd managed to sit through the full session with minimal tears.  
Spot quirked an eyebrow teasingly,  
"Gonna do it again?"  
"Absolutley not!" Spot laughed at how happy and excited it sounded. "I did it, I'm glad I did it, but once was more than enough. I don't know how you do this so much."  
Spot smirked,  
"I'm just that good. Get my flu shot all by myself and everything."  
"Oh that was ONE TIME!"  
"That I was there for. According to your brothers it's every time."  
Just over five years ago, Spot Conlon wouldn't be caught dead in public with anything less than a scowl on his face. If you'd told him he'd be laughing out in public as the softest, sweetest, most easily excited person he'd ever met threw an empty ice cream cup at his head, he'd have called bullshit without hesitation.   
Spot Conlon had never expected Racetrack Higgins to show up in his life. And that was part of what made him so special.  
"Come on Sunshine, let's get home before you get in trouble for littering all over the place."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Racetrack Higgins is absolutely terrified of needles ok? But ice cream makes everything better.  
But also, despite the tears, he's not actually that much of a wimp, he's just very emotional. He cries when a stuffed animal at the store is too cute.


	8. Stumbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Racetrack Higgins had never been particularly coordinated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... Thirty-one days. Nine stories. (Ten if I get though this other one but... Doubts.)  
But did I really say I had to have them done within the month? Or just have 31 stories done?  
I think I did say the month but fuck that, I'm here to stay even if it takes me years!   
Let's see where this goes buddies!

Racetrack Higgins had never been particularly coordinated. He was tall and lanky and just wasn't quite built for balance. He was perfectly aware of his lack of coordination and perfectly content with his destiny to avoid athletics, but that didn't make him careful by any means.  
Racetrack Higgins was the type of person who looked, at all times, like he'd been beat up because of the scrapes and bruises littering his body. The kind of person who had stories for a handful of them, guesses for some, and absolutley no clue how he'd acquired most of them. When he was fifteen, he'd managed to break his nose running into a stop sign and would have done it again only two months later had Albert not grabbed him. His natural athlete of a best friend had saved him from his own feet more times than he could count really, and likely would many times more to come. Issues really only arose when Albert wasn't with him.

It had been a good day. Albert hadn't woken him up at the ass crack of dawn while leaving for the gym, class had been interesting, he'd scored highest in the class on yesterday's test, and the part he needed for his computer had come in while he was in class and was now waiting for him all shiny and perfect and ready to be installed when he got home. Everything so far had lead to his happily bouncing along to his music on his walk home. He wasn't particularly graceful but shame had never really been his thing anyway.  
Race grinned as he heard the first notes of one of his favorite songs and picked his little jaunt up into an excited little dance, it had been a great day after all and he had energy. He giggled to himself, doing a little spin on the sidewalk. He knew he probably looked a little ridiculous, dancing down the sidewalk to music no one else could hear, but he was having fun.  
By halfway through the song he got a little too excited in his footwork and suddenly found himself hurtling towards the pavement.  
In the span of a half second, he'd realized there was no saving this, cursed his legs for betraying him, and braced for impact. This one was going to hurt a little.  
But then it didn't.  
Race stayed still for a few seconds, eyes squeezed shut, waiting to hit the ground before he realized. He had already stopped falling.  
The ground hurt a lot less than usual, he thought. And he didn't feel like he was flat on the ground...  
It took another moment before he realized there were a pair of arms under his armpits, keeping him mostly upright. Albert must have...  
Albert was at his parents' house in Flushing until late that night.  
He had been walking alone.  
Race slowly cracked his eyes open and immediately missed his blissful ignorance. Barely a second ago, he'd had no idea that he was nearly nose to nose with a complete stranger. Barley a second ago, he didn't know that there was a very unimpressed looking stranger holding him in the middle of the sidewalk.  
Barely a second ago, he wasn't blushing like mad.  
He looked up a little so that he was looking more at the guy's eyes - they were really nice. Dark and gray and -  
"Hi." The guy smirked a little at the awkwardness of the situation. Or maybe it was just the awkwardness of the clumsy noodle in his arms. Race wasn't quite sure.  
"Hi there. You alright?"  
"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine," Race stuttered, realizing he was still half hugging this guy in the middle of the sidewalk and pulling awkwardly away. "Uh... Thanks. Sorry for falling on you."  
"No problem man." The guy smirked a little and... Holy shit, Race hadn't really looked at him until now. Buddy was hot. Shorter than he'd looked from his angle nearly cuddling his neck, but built like a fucking superhero. He'd noticed his arms when he was holding him up but he hadn't realized he'd be able to see them in the most faltering sleeveless... He'd been staring a lot longer than he'd meant to. He should probably say something. And maybe stop looking at this complete stranger's biceps.  
"I'm really sorry. Honest. I really need to learn to watch where I'm going. This happens way more than it should." And he was babbling. Great. Who knew how long this could go on. "I'm not exactly the most coordinated, though you probably picked up on that, but usually my friend Albert's with me, he keeps me out of oncoming traffic and keeps me from falling on people like this although he does like letting me bump into stuff sometimes because he's kind of an asshole like that, but not in a bad way! He's great. Best friends are just like that I guess, anyway I'm really sorry for that, you probably didn't leave your house today expecting to be nearly bowled over by some overly enthusiastic twink on the sidewalk but I am really glad you were here since that was probably going to hurt and also you have really nice arms so it was kinda nice and-"  
"How 'bout I buy you a coffee and you can tell me the rest?" The guy looked amused out of his mind as he cut Race off, the comment about his biceps had probably done it, something that Race had NOT meant to say out loud but a least the guy wasn't mad.  
"Sure. Alright." He smiled a little, just hoping this guy didn't already see him as far too much of a disaster to be alluring. "I'm Tony by the way. Antonio. Higgins. Most people call me Race though. Or Racetrack... Racer... Hey You..." The guy chuckled as he trailed off.  
"Spot Conlon. Gotta say, I'm glad I ran into you. Or... You into me more so."  
Race could feel his blush darkening almost impossibly as the guy, Spot Conlon, smirked at him.  
Racetrack Higgins had never been particularly coordinated. But maybe even that had it's perks.

~~~~~~~~

"So that's all it takes for you to get all dopey over someone? They save you from faceplanting and suddenly you're ringing in wedding bells? How is it that you aren't completely convinced I'm your soulmate by now?"  
"Oh shut up. This is different. He's really hot."  
"So a really hot guy saves you from eating pavement and you're in love. I'm still not seeing why you aren't flirting desperately with me at every possible opportunity."  
Race turned to smack his best friend upside the head, earning an affronted sort of squawk as it messed up Albert's already messy hair.  
"Shut up you asshole, you know we both had enough of that in the eighth grade. No one wants to revisit those days."  
Albert laughed shooting him a wicked grin,  
"True true. Although hopelessly desperate Race did make some bomb cupcakes, wouldn't mind revisiting that part, maybe with a few less heart shapes."  
"Oh come on I was thirteen!"


End file.
